


Cosmic Shift

by bitter_leaf



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Dimension Travel, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Meta, Mutual Pining, Science Fiction, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-09-26 07:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20385697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitter_leaf/pseuds/bitter_leaf
Summary: Liam shifted in his chair. “Uh, I don’t mean like, outer-space. I mean like, space space. Anywhere. Everywhere…Elsewhere.”Just as it had started to feel alright, Zayn's stomach dropped again. “You mean… another fucking dimension? Is that where we are?” His eyes were wide with panic.Liam looked around again before fixing his eyes on Zayn’s. “Yes. I think that’s where we are.”__Something resembling fate intervenes to ensure Zayn and Liam don't miss their moment.





	Cosmic Shift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarah_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_writes/gifts).

> Sarah, I hope you like this romantic little fic featuring pining Zayn, responsible Liam™ and a tiny side order of Larry. 
> 
> I've deviated from the prompt just slightly and set it in the UK but otherwise I hope it's some of what you hoped for! If I get an angry phone call from MI6, I'll be sure to tell them to blame Zayn and Liam because this silly story is their fault, not ours!
> 
> Finally, thank you to the lovely Molly for the beta and Dee for letting me pinch-hit for this exchange, and for being so so encouraging.

_

“How was work?” Liam asked, sipping his pint. It was a Friday afternoon and they were at the pub, naturally. “Any better?”

Zayn groaned, “Mate, I know I say this every week, but it’s Friday afternoon and I’m already dreading having to go back in on Monday. I need to just man up and quit.”

Zayn worked as an illustrator at a large, soulless publishing company and he’d been promising Liam for over a year that he was going to quit but he never did. Zayn wasn’t one for taking risks.

Liam was sympathetic. “It’s a shame we have literally nothing in common, we could go into business together!”

Zayn scoffed, “Nothing in common? That’s a bit harsh, innit?”

Liam rolled his eyes, “I didn’t mean _generally_ speaking,” and of course he didn’t, they’d been friends since grade school. “I meant like, professionally. Not a lot of businesses needing my personal training skills and your artistic prowess.” Liam sighed, “Ah well, let me know if you ever want to get out some of that frustration out in the gym. My door’s always open.” He gave Zayn a wink.

Liam had joined the army after college in search of an outlet for his excessive self-discipline but, just as he’d finished his officer training–for no apparent reason–he’d dropped out. He’d owned his own personal training business for years now and although Zayn had never met any of his clients, Liam’s regimens were obviously working for him.

Zayn blushed, smiling weakly, and he lowered his eyes into his glass. After so many years, being secretly in love with Liam was now just one of life’s mundane distractions. Zayn had never told Liam how he felt, had decided he never would, was convinced it would only ever lead to heartache. Zayn had long since learned to compartmentalise his feelings, push them to the back of his mind so they just flitted about in his and Liam’s daily interactions like a beautiful butterfly; mildly distracting but ultimately harmless.

This being said, it didn’t stop Zayn taking the occasional moment to appreciate Liam, his twinkling dark eyes, gentle smile, and strong arms Zayn just wanted to fall into. Hanging out with Liam, all hot and sweaty and flexing at the gym, was a step too far for his self-control.

Zayn hid his embarrassment the way he usually did, by changing the subject.

“Any new clients?” Liam often regaled him with stories of his more demanding charges.

Liam paused thoughtfully. “Not really, nice new guy, Irish, seems like he might be a laugh. Weak as piss though.” He chuckled heartily and Zayn almost swooned at the crinkles at his eyes, gripping his glass harder.

“Is he cute?” Zayn asked. He had absolutely zero intention of doing anything about it if he was, but it was the sort of thing a guy not totally in love with his best mate was meant to ask.

Liam’s face fell slightly and Zayn mentally kicked himself. Liam wasn’t weird about Zayn’s sexuality, not by a long shot, but he was protective. A long time ago now, Zayn had given him reason to be and Liam hadn’t easily forgotten.

Liam gave him a reproachful look. “Don’t think he’s your type, mate.” Liam didn’t like blurring the boundary between work and play and didn’t like Zayn alluding to it either, not that Zayn had ever expressed even a remotely real interest in any of Liam’s clients. It was a moot point, really, and they both knew it.

By his third pint, Zayn felt daring. Or reckless, depending on who you asked.

“What do you think my type is then?” he asked Liam, eyes challenging.

Liam rolled his eyes, “I dunno, total wankers?”

Zayn was hurt but he didn’t let it show. “Mate, Jamie was alright.” Zayn had been with Jamie for almost six months, his longest ever relationship, and it’d be quite nice for the most part. Zayn had calculated that being with Jamie had stopped him thinking about Liam for at least half of the time they’d been together, which, ok, wasn’t a lot, but it was a start.

Liam put his glass down pointedly. “Mate, Jamie was the biggest tosser of all of them!”

Liam and Jamie had been like chalk and cheese. Or rather, the opposite; they’d had so much in common that every outing down the pub or kickabout in the park turned into a pissing contest. Zayn didn’t choose to overanalyse the ways in which Liam and Jamie were basically clones of one another, however, when Jamie had asked Zayn to choose, six months in, it had been a no-brainer.

Zayn groaned, shoving a handful of crisps into his mouth. “Let’s not talk about _this_ again. Anyway, doubt your love life is any better. Been out on the pull lately?” Zayn dreaded the answer.

Liam was not a man without interest from women and men alike; he was fit, kind, entrepreneurial– a catch, basically. But Liam was fiercely dedicated to his business, hard-working to a fault, and he often told Zayn he didn’t have time for dating.

Liam shrugged. “I’m not looking for anything right now.” Despite it being his usual answer, Zayn thought it didn’t make sense. All throughout high school, Liam had been a serial monogamist, the kind of guy who was in love with being in love. However, since he’d left the army, his love life had been nothing but a few pointless dates. Zayn often wondered if something had happened while Liam had been away at officer training.

“Are we getting pissed tonight?” Liam asked cheekily, changing the subject.

Zayn snorted, “I’m in, if you are.” Liam rarely got drunk enough to feel it the next day but Zayn wasn’t so virtuous and he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d hid his feelings long enough that he knew he wouldn’t do anything silly like throw himself into Liam’s arms and declare his undying love but, getting drunk together, if only to get rid of this awkward tension between them, was a chance he wasn’t going to pass up. For a few hours at least, he thought it’d help him forget his rather pathetic life.

They sat and they drank until midnight, reminiscing about school, laughing about Zayn’s bitch of a boss, comparing notes on the latest episode of Gogglebox. They were in fits of giggles when Liam called it.

“Mate, I’m going to have to pack it in, I’m wiped.”

“No!” Zayn insisted, “You said we were getting pissed!” He slapped his hand on the table, “Come on!” If he was honest, he was already three-quarters of the way there but Liam’s tolerance was significantly higher than his was.

Liam smiled warmly, if a little dopily. “I have a client tomorrow!”

“No!” Zayn insisted, tugging childishly at Liam’s sleeve as he rose out of the booth.

Liam paused, shoving his wallet in his back pocket. “Tell you what, come have one more at mine, you can crash there if you need. I’m seeing Niall at nine tomorrow but free after.” Niall was the new client, Zayn presumed, and he pouted. Still, he reasoned, it was a better offer than having to get the tube home alone, in his state.

“Ok, fine,” Zayn replied gruffly, as if Liam was doing _him_ a favour rather than the other way around, “but you better shout me a fry-up afterwards.”

After he’d come back from the army, Liam had moved into a swanky apartment off Piccadilly Circuit, and it was another reason Zayn thought something might have happened while Liam was away that he didn’t want to talk about–there was simply no way he could afford his place on a PT salary. Zayn never asked though, figured Liam would have told him if he’d thought it was any of his business–maybe he had a secret sugar mummy, or something equally horrifying.

By the time they got to Liam’s on foot, Zayn was feeling well and truly sloshed, and Liam worked hard to ensure he kept up, half pulling him along, half engulfing him to protect Zayn’s pitiful frame from the bitter cold.

“Alright, mate. Up we go.” He shoved Zayn up the few steps to his front door. For some reason that Zayn couldn’t fathom, Liam was now almost entirely sober. Stupid Liam and his enormous, gorgeous, muscular body. Zayn sulked and hoped Liam found it cute.

“You sure you’re up for another one?” Liam asked once Zayn was curled up on his extravagant leather lounge.

Zayn nodded with all the confidence he didn’t feel, eyes becoming droopy as soon as Liam exited from view. “Yeah, definitely mate…just give me a second.”

Zayn was in a twilight state of sleep when he felt Liam throw a blanket over him and turn out the lights. He contemplated objecting but he felt so sleepy, so comfortable, so…

When Zayn awoke the next morning, it was to ringing in his ears and a shocking case of cottonmouth.

“Ugh.” He supplied groggily, hearing Liam bustling about the kitchen.

“Oh good, you’re up.” Liam said cheerily from behind the enormous kitchen island. He appeared to be drinking some sort of green smoothie and its appearance alone was enough to make Zayn’s stomach turn.

“Hey, you promised me sausages and eggs!” He called from the sofa, regretting his words as soon as they spilled out. Apparently, just the _thought_ of sausages and eggs was also enough to make his stomach not just turn but do actual backflips.

Liam chuckled good‑naturedly, “We will, mate–it’s only eight o’clock. I’m gonna go for a run before I meet up with Niall. Go back to sleep.”

Zayn peered up from where he lay on the couch, blanket up to his neck. Despite his hangover, he was remarkably cosy on Liam’s luxurious furniture and the view of Liam in shorts and a sleek, fitted windbreaker was doing entirely different things to his stomach. He smiled to himself and scooted up to place his head on the pillow. The sun was streaming in through Liam’s huge windows and it reflected off something on the little side table, bedside his head. The light shined in his eyes again and he winced.

Despite his extreme comfort, or rather because of it, he sat up to dislodge whatever it was that was ruining the serenity of his sun-warmed lie-in. He immediately saw the culprit–a shiny coin, some sort of disc, radiating light every which way, half wedged under a stack of magazines.

He pulled the item out from the pile. It was a curious object, looked a bit like a convex medal, and Zayn briefly wondered if it was a relic from Liam’s old his competition days, but it wasn’t like any medal he’d ever seen. He flipped the object over in his knuckles and it flowed as smooth as water. When he held it in his palm, it felt solid and heavy for its size, but, as the light caught it, it appeared to change shape, just the tiniest flicker of a shift before he tilted it back the other way and it returned to its previous form. When he’d first seen it, he’d thought it was silver but curiously, as he held it in his hand, his eyes couldn’t fix on a colour. It made his vision blur and his brain confused. Fuck, he thought to himself, he really must have drunk more than he thought last night.

“Hey,” he muttered to Liam, who approached the door to head out for his run, “what’s this?” He held up the coin between his thumb and index finger. 

Zayn experienced the next few seconds as if in slow motion; Liam turned to smile at him before his eyes locked on the item in Zayn’s hand. His brown eyes went wide and Zayn saw something in Liam’s expression that made his bloody run cold–_panic_.

“Wh–” Zayn started, looking from Liam’s expression to the item in his hand. But Liam didn’t answer, using the full strength of his legs to propel himself from the door to the sofa. Zayn was so disoriented, he didn’t even flinch when Liam lunged at him.

Liam outstretched his arm as he neared him, “DON’T TOUCH TH–”, but as his arm latched onto Zayn’s, and before the item could fall from Zayn’s fingers to his lap, everything went black.

**

When Zayn came to, it was like his guts had been removed and shoved back into his body backwards. For a brief moment, he wondered if he’d had a bad reaction to the alcohol. He blinked his eyes, willing them to focus.

“Li?” He questioned dreamily, patting around himself in search of Liam with a hand that his brain still hadn’t registered was a part of his body.

“Zayn!” Liam rushed over to crouch over him.

_God_, Zayn thought, there was nothing like impressing the man of your dreams by fainting in his living room after a run-of-the-mill night out. Liam would certainly scold him for not eating enough and not looking after himself before tucking Zayn into Liam’s own bed with a nice cup of tea. Zayn smiled to himself stupidly, that actually didn’t sound half bad.

“Zayn, can you get up? We need to get moving.”

Zayn fluttered his eyes in confusion, _where did they need to go? _He used every ounce of strength, minus a little bit that he let Liam compensate for, to raise himself to a sitting position. As soon as he did though, his eyes swam. He really must have hit his head, he thought to himself, because the view around him looked like Liam’s flat but…it wasn’t. Instead of Liam’s usual functional décor, the living room was decked out in designer furniture; a lot of smooth chrome and artfully arranged flowers, and–who were those people in the picture frames? Zayn didn’t feel well.

“I don’t feel so good.” Zayn said, legitimately worried about his condition, although it didn’t stop him enjoying Liam’s hands on him.

Liam, lovely soft Liam, gripped him under the arms to pull him onto his feet.

“_Oi_,” Zayn cried out feebly, he really wasn’t ready to get going. Hang on, why did they need to get going, again?

“Li, hang on,” Zayn shook his head, “what’s happening, where are we?” Maybe Liam had taken him to the flat next door, but the view out the window looked exactly the same.

There was a sound from the bedroom, or at least where Liam’s bedroom was _supposed_ to be.

Liam ignored him. “Time to go.” He quickly ushered Zayn out the front door. Zayn felt dizzy again and Liam looked at him desperately, but he needed an explanation.

“What’s going on, Liam? Did I pass out?” Liam sighed, thinking Zayn looked so agitated that he put his haste to one side.

Liam paused before answering, “Not exactly.”

“Liam,” Zayn repeated. “I’m not going anywhere until you explain to me what’s going on. Where are we? Was there someone else in your flat?” Zayn’s thoughts raced–was Liam hiding someone in his bedroom? It seemed ridiculous that, even if he did, he’d be so agitated about it.

Liam paced the hallway frantically, just a few steps forth and back. He ran his hand brusquely through his close-cropped hair, looking at Zayn pleadingly before his shoulders loosened and he exhaled sharply, defeat visible in his whole body. 

“Fine. That’s not my flat. But we can’t talk here, we have to go somewhere else.” He dragged Zayn by the elbow, down the hall and out into the street.

Zayn was baffled, Liam’s street looked like Liam’s street, but again, it… _didn’t_.

“Wasn’t the post box on the other side of the road?” Zayn shook his head again in confusion, he could have sworn the pavers on the footpath went the _other_ way.

“Li, I think I’ve had a stroke.” He was only half joking.

Liam furrowed his brow as he speed-walked down the road. “You haven’t. I’ll…explain in a minute, let’s just go somewhere less…out in the open.”

In the end, Liam’s idea of less open was them hiding in plain sight. They snuck into the nearby HW Smith, Liam bolting upstairs to find a couple of cushy armchairs in a quiet corner.

“Liam, you’re scaring me.” Zayn twisted his hands together, he still felt way too hungover for this–whatever _this_ was.

Liam leaned forward in his chair and looked Zayn straight in the eyes.

“Z,” he began, voice ominous, “I need you to promise me you won’t freak out about what I’m about to tell you. I’m going to say some things that are going to sound…completely mental, completely implausible, but just hear me out before you ask questions, ok?”

Liam took a deep breath and Zayn was too worried to make a remark. Was Liam in some kind of trouble?

Liam didn’t know where to begin so he started at the beginning. “So,” he lowered his voice almost to a whisper, “I’m not actually a personal trainer.”

Zayn was dumbfounded; _of course_ he was, he’d seen him training…people. He scoffed, “What do you mean?”

Liam shook his head, “I mean–I am. But that’s not _all_ I am.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows, “Ok?” So, Liam had a job on the side. “That doesn’t explain much, mate.” He chuckled but Liam didn’t smile.

Liam sighed. “I work for the Government.”

Zayn didn’t hide his annoyance, “God, spit it out, Liam.”

Liam looked around them, making sure they weren’t being overheard. “I told you that Sandhurst wasn’t for me and I dropped out. Zayn, that wasn’t true.”

Zayn swallowed.

“While I was there, I got headhunted for a special division of the SAS.”

Zayn smirked, “They’re like, commandos right?” That sounded _exactly_ like Liam.

Liam nodded once. “That’s right. But that’s not all. I’m not in a normal squadron, I’m in a top secret joint SAS-MI6 division. Only a few people know about its very existence; the Prime Minister, the agency heads, and the people who work there, like me.”

“Why are you telling me this now? And why are we in a bookshop?” Zayn didn’t know whether to laugh or be extremely worried. He did a little bit of both.

“Because it’s important that you understand–”

Before Liam could finish, there was a click of a phone camera and a gaggle of girls peering at them excitedly from behind a bookshelf. Liam’s arm shot out to protect Zayn but there was nothing, no one else there, just the group of teenagers. With a start, Zayn realised where Liam’s lightning reflexes came from; years and years of secret combat training.

“But, like, how?” Zayn asked, beginning to feel put out. Logically, he knew Liam wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about his job, let alone just a mate, but it didn’t stop him feeling lied to. He _had_ been lied to, even if it was for the security of the nation. Or something.

Liam looked at him weakly. Just as he was about to reply, one of the girls walked up to them and Liam eyed her warily, ready to strike if need be.

“Um, hi.” The girl asked, blushing, “I’m Grace. Can I have your autograph?” Her mob of friends giggled furiously before surging forward to join her. “Can we have a picture too?”

Before Zayn could even open his mouth to ask what they were on about, Liam took care of it.

“You should all probably go,” he said firmly. The girls looked crestfallen and scurried away.

“Bit harsh there, mate, they…” Zayn trailed off as his eyes fixed on something behind Liam’s head. A cover on the magazine shelf captivated his attention, but…It _couldn’t_ be…He surged out of his seat to pick it up. Sure enough, it was.

“What. The. Fuck.” He brought the rag over to Liam but Liam snatched it out of his hands.

“_Sit_ down,” he said, again with a firm tone. Liam was usually in control, disciplined, sensible, but Zayn had never heard him so commanding. He contemplated saluting and saying ‘yes, sir’, but something about Liam’s expression made Zayn think he wouldn’t find it very funny.

Zayn looked at him plaintively.

Liam didn’t let anything interrupt him this time. He spoke, whispering again, so they couldn’t be overheard. “This special branch, Joint 1st Division–we investigate the supernormal.”

Zayn couldn’t hold back from making a joke this time. “What are you, like, Will Smith from ‘Men in Black’?”

Liam didn’t laugh. “A bit like that. But it’s not battling goofy aliens.”

Zayn gulped, _aliens_? Liam definitely didn’t seem like he was joking. “You sound fucking insane, mate.”

Liam grabbed his hands and the girls, still hiding behind the bookcase, couldn’t contain their excitement. Liam yanked his hands away, decided he couldn’t make any assumptions about their new environment just yet.

“I know, I know I do, Zayn. This is why 1st Div.’s role isn’t publicised, there’d be widespread hysteria. But it’s not what you think–at the moment, our role is primarily researching and guarding a wormhole just a little way out of London. It appeared in the 1930s but only recently did it start spewing out what we _think_ is just space-junk.”

Zayn thought back to the intangible object. Short of him losing his mind, it being not of this world was the only that explained the unexplainable way it shifted through space.

“1st Div. is made up of soldiers, like me, as well as intelligence officers, but also scientists, linguists, anthropologists, you name it. So far, though, we’ve seen nothing too out of the ordinary…”

Zayn snorted, a rip in the fabric space-time was pretty fucking out of the ordinary but he figured Liam’s point of reference was a little different now. Liam smiled a small smile, the first since everything had gone weird, but Zayn didn’t take much comfort in it.

“What I mean is, nothing of the ‘Men in Black’ variety. Just bits and pieces out of the wormhole; some water, a deck of cards, an old boot. Then, about a year ago, that piece of tech you found in my flat. But we think it’s been visiting earth for a lot longer than that.”

Zayn’s brain wasn’t working properly so he asked the first question that popped into his head. “What’s spacey about an old boot?”

Liam shifted in his chair. “Uh, I don’t mean like, _outer_-space. I mean like, _space_ space. Anywhere. Everywhere… Elsewhere.”

Just as it had started to feel alright, Zayn’s stomach dropped again. “You mean… another fucking _dimension_? Is that where we are?” His eyes were wide with panic.

Liam looked around again before fixing his eyes on Zayn’s. “Yes. I think that’s where we are.”

Zayn thought he was going to be sick. “It _can’t_ be, it’s not _possible_…” He wasn’t any kind of physicist but surely alternate universes wouldn’t be so mundane to have HW Smiths and magazines with their faces on them.

Zayn patted his pocket and pulled out his phone, which was dead, or wouldn’t work. All of a sudden, he felt awfully alone.

“How do we get back, then?” he asked pleadingly.

Liam straightened from where he was leaning his arms on his knees. He spoke slowly, “I don’t know for sure, but I have something of an idea…”

“What _was_ that thing? The coin? Some kind of transport device?” He looked around to see if the object was still with them but, of course, it wasn’t. Maybe they’d left it behind in the flat. The flat that, in this dimension, wasn’t even Liam’s flat. Wait, Zayn thought with a start, was Liam even _Liam_?

“Kind of. We don’t think its primary purpose is to move people through dimensions, in that we can’t get it to work on command. It just does this when it feels like it.”

“_It_?” Zayn asked, incredulous.

“The researchers think that instead of just moving people through dimensions, it takes select people on a personalised journey. But it’s only happened three times in over eighty years. Well, three times that we know about anyway. There are surely loads more people who died without being believed.”

“Do people come back?” Zayn asked bluntly.

Liam pursed his lips. “Yes. It’s how we know what we know, even if it’s not much.” 

Zayn ran his fingers through his hair. And to think only 24 hours ago his biggest problem was his shit job and his big fat crush on Liam. _Well_, he thought petulantly, he wasn’t all that fond of Liam right now.

“Why me?” His voice was small and fearful.

Liam shook his head, “I don’t know, Z. But we’re going to get back home, I’ll do my best, I promise.”

“So, how does this thing work?”

Liam paused, thinking how to phrase what he was about to say. “It’s not so much _how_ it works, but _why_. Ms Earhart said–”

Zayn interrupted, “Like, _Amelia_ Earhart?”

Liam nodded. “She was the first, in 1937. Gone for five years, but she came back.”

“Five _years_?” Zayn asked, devastated.

Liam dropped his gaze to his lap, nodding. “The Five-Eyes nations are all aware of the Ashwell Disturbance, that’s the wormhole’s official name, and when Ms Earhart came back, they agreed that it was best the public never knew about it, or the device. She was different…”

Zayn blanched, “Different how?”

“No one’s ever been hurt, but this device, it shows you things it thinks you ought to see. For better or worse.”

There was that word again, _it_, Zayn thought, as if a small piece of space metal could consciously subvert all known physical laws of the universe. With a jolt he realised, maybe they weren’t even _in_ their own universe anymore. _Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore_.

“_See_? Like what?” Zayn couldn’t imagine what was so interesting about this dimension, so seemingly like their own. His eyes returned to the bookcase behind Liam. Well, fancy that, they weren’t in a HW Smith at all, it was a _WH_ Smith, and their location, Piccadilly Circuit, wasn’t a circuit at all, but a _Circus_. Freaky.

Liam settled into his chair, seemingly more comfortable now and Zayn wondered what kind of reconnaissance he’d conducted as they’d come in here. Liam and his super-spy skills, he thought sadly; _his_ Liam, who, all along, he’d really known nothing about.

“So, you know like, shamanism?” Liam spoke.

Zayn nodded.

“We think this device shows travellers, that’s what we call them, alternate versions, possibilities for themselves. Kind of like how a shaman might lead a person to an altered state of consciousness to achieve spiritual enlightenment, we think the purpose of these journeys, the visits, is to provide personal perspective, like an awakening.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means it doesn’t let you go until it’s done with you. Until you’ve seen what you’re meant to, learn what you’re supposed to. It wants to initiate some sort of shift in consciousness for the traveller, for example, Ms Earhart received over twenty visions about explorations versions of her had done since basically the beginning of civilisation. But so far, it’s been really different for each person.”

All three of them, Zayn thought grumpily. Him and Liam were basically guinea pigs–lab rats–at this point.

“What was the bloody thing doing in your flat?” Zayn asked, his face ashen.

Liam grimaced, “That’s just the thing. It _wasn’t_. At least not the night before. I would have seen it when we got home.”

Zayn stared at him open-mouthed, “It just _appears_ to people?” 

Liam nodded curtly. “Did you notice when you stared at it that it sort of likes to shift about? That’s how it slips through space to find people.”

Zayn rubbed his hands over his cheeks. He had so many questions but he didn’t even know which to ask first.

Liam continued. “It seems to like hanging around the ‘Turb, that’s what we call the Disturbance. People a lot smarter than me think the device might absorb the energy from it, but, like, we don’t know if it created the Disturbance or if the Disturbance happened and it was just a result. We don’t know if someone sent it or it was just a happy accident.”

“Happy, yeah right.” Zayn muttered. “What do you call it?” Not that it mattered, the thing was long gone.

Liam shrugged, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, this is so top secret I could be thrown in prison for the rest of my life just for mentioning it, but since you’re actually experiencing it, I imagine we’ll be debriefed when we return.”

Zayn noticed he didn’t say _if_. He was probably just trying to put on a brave face.

“The operation, and the compartment, is named Pyrrhic Victory. But everyone calls it ‘the looking glass,’ the LG, like…Alice in Wonderland.” Liam smiled weakly.

“_Pyrrhic_,” Zayn paused, brow furrowed, “that means…”

Liam shook his head. “It’s just a name, randomly generated, it doesn’t mean anything.” Zayn wondered if he was lying just to reassure him.

Zayn surveyed his surroundings. The bookshop looked exactly like one at home, the people looked the same, they sounded the same, and Zayn and Liam hadn’t seen anything untoward on their way over. This dimension looked like their world in almost every way and Zayn supposed it wouldn’t be too bad if they couldn’t find a way home. It wasn’t any worse than moving to a foreign country, except for the fact that he’d never see his family again. There was a version of them here but they weren’t his family, they were _this_ dimension’s Zayn’s family, the one staring up at him broodingly from the front cover.

Liam looked down at the magazine for the first time and chuckled; Zayn couldn’t believe he was laughing at a time like this but then Liam was always the optimist.

“1D,” Liam snickered, “That’s part of the satellite code for 1st Div. I think we’re going to see a lot of bloody weird stuff before we get home. Best be prepared, mate.”

Zayn didn’t know how he could possibly try and prepare for what this thing, _the LG_, would try and show them. Not that anything at all appeared to be happening.

“So, like, we just _wait_ until something happens?”

Liam shrugged, “I’m just as much of virgin interdimensional tourist as you are, mate.” He flashed Zayn a sly wink, and despite their dire circumstances, it sent a little zing of a thrill up Zayn’s spine. So, he hadn’t left that little tidbit of his reality back home, then.

“What’s to stop us just ignoring the whole thing and just like, hanging out here?”

Liam looked a bit queasy, “Did I not mention that? Well, I don’t imagine we’ll stay here, Z. It’s a process. We’re taken where we’re supposed to go, when we’re supposed to go there. Also, you’ve obviously noticed that we’re not the only versions of us in this world,” he paused, “that’s kinda the whole point, I guess.”

Liam went on. “In her diaries, Ms Earhart said that she could interact in her worlds but not with herself. I think there are some failsafes built in that stop reality falling in on itself.”

Zayn wrinkled his brow, “I don’t get it, why are we _both_ here, if it’s meant to be, like, some sort of personal journey?”

“I was thinking about that myself, actually. It’s never happened before, but I think it must be because I touched you, just as you were being ‘ported.”

“So, it’s my ‘This is your Life’ episode, then.” Zayn joked.

Liam shrugged and returned his smile, “Suppose so.”

Liam stood up, rolling up the stolen magazine and shoving it in the pocket of his windbreaker. He held out his hand. “Come on, let’s get a move on, when I’m on an operation, I don’t like staying in one place too long.”

In their own dimension, Liam was the one thing Zayn could always rely on. However, just as Liam took his hand, he felt a familiar lurch in his gut, and as Zayn looked up at him, wide-eyed, he instantly knew they were feeling the same thing. Zayn closed his eyes tight and held on for dear life.

**

“Where are we?” Zayn whispered when he came to. Unlike the previous time, he’d fared a little better than Liam, who’d whacked the back of his head. Their hands were still clasped together.

“Dunno,” Liam looked around, “Some sort of arena?” Large black cases were stacked high to the ceiling and they heard the strains of an electric guitar in the distance, “Backstage, maybe.” Liam stood and they crept along the wall, trying to avoid squeaking their shoes on the linoleum and drawing attention.

A bloke dressed all in black with a bushy beard and ponytail rounded the corner and Zayn almost died of fright. The bloke gave them a funny look before offering a curt nod. They hurried further down the hall.

“Fucking weird, mate.” Zayn muttered.

They reached an open door with the words ‘Headline Act: _One Direction_’ plastered on a piece of printer paper.

“Come on,” Liam whispered, ignoring Zayn’s objections and sneaking inside.

It was a feeling Zayn knew he’d never forget, seeing another version of himself there in the green room. Liam had been right, in their own presence, they couldn’t be seen and apparently it flowed onto others around them. It was so unusual, it was like an out-of-body experience. _Through the looking glass _indeed, Zayn thought.

“Look at us,” he whispered, “we’re pipsqueaks! Although I didn’t realise we could go back in time.”

Liam sighed like he was explaining something very simple to a small child. “We haven’t gone back in time, mate. In the multiverse, every possible timeline is in existence at the _same_ time. Including what we’re doing now, travelling through it.”

Zayn ignored him, stupid Liam and his multiverse. When they got back home, Liam would owe him _so _many pints.

“What are we doing here, then? I mean, it’s weird that we’re apparently famous, but it’s not like, life-altering.”

Liam shushed him.

In the green room, Liam, Zayn and three other boys were mucking around before their show. Liam recognised his new client, Niall, of all people, as well as his old mate Louis from Sandhurst. There was another bloke he didn’t recognise, a charming sort of kid with green eyes and dark curls.

“Fuck,” Zayn piped up, still whispering even though they couldn’t be seen, let alone heard, “that’s–that’s Harry, from work, he takes photos for book covers. We go out to the bars in Soho sometimes. But like, ten years younger, holy shit.”

The alternate dimension’s version of Niall spoke, “Do you fellas think it’s a bit shit that we’ve only been doing this for less than a year and we’re already fucking sick of sitting and waiting around in green rooms?” He and Louis kicked a ball between them.

Baby-Liam piped up and Zayn could see real-Liam take a keen interest. “I feel lame for saying this,” he spoke shyly amongst all the ruckus, “but I think I kind of love it? I’m still nervous as hell before every show but I can’t imagine ever getting sick of it. Or like, any part of all this.”

To real-Zayn’s horror, Baby-Zayn scooched in close to Baby-Liam and threw a casual arm around his shoulders. “Actually,” he said looking at Liam beside him, “I don’t think it’s lame, I think it’s really sweet.” Baby-Liam blushed furiously and avoided Baby‑Zayn’s eyes but didn’t say anything.

Louis wolf-whistled crudely. “Have you quite finished?” he asked haughtily, “You two love birds need to sort yourselves out.” He spoke with a purpose, like Liam remembered the Louis _he_ knew spoke. At Sandhurst, Louis was known for his leadership qualities and apparently this Louis wasn’t that different.

Louis kicked the ball to Niall where it missed him by at least three feet. Louis huffed and threw his hands in the air dramatically before plonking himself down besides Harry, ruffling his hair before grabbing his hand and interlacing their fingers. Harry beamed and rested his head on Louis’ bony shoulder.

"I will say,” Louis continued, “I can’t imagine ever being sick of you lads.”

Baby-Liam threw Baby-Zayn a shy smile.

Niall came over from where he’d been abandoned with the football. “_I_ can’t believe I’m not more weirded out by the fact you’re all basically paired off and I’m just here having the craic.” He cackled at his own joke for good measure.

Baby-Zayn objected, “Nialler, we’re not–”

As Baby-Zayn spoke, real Liam and Zayn both didn’t miss Baby-Liam’s face fall. Liam held his breath.

Thankfully, Louis broke the tension, “Don’t worry boys, there’s enough love here to go around,” he looked affectionately at Harry before leaning in to plant a long, wet kiss on his lips. Harry clutched at Louis’ forearms where they reached to stroke his cheeks and when Louis pulled away, Harry’s smile was so wide that it took up half his face.

Baby-Liam stared at them and sighed, looking down into his lap; Baby-Zayn just stared straight ahead.

**

Liam was in a state after they recovered from the porting, despite the fact that each time they did it, it seemed to affect them less and less. This time, they’d arrived standing, which Zayn thought had to be a plus. He wondered how smooth Amelia Earhart’s portings were at the end of her five-year journey. It was probably as easy for her as the blink of an eye.

“That was getting pretty weird in there, if I’m honest.” Zayn raked a hand through his hair.

Liam paced. Once again, they were in some kind of draughty stadium. For someone that didn’t exercise, Zayn thought it weird that two third of his visions had been at sporting venues. Just as he was about to make the same point to Liam, the latter spoke, bending over to lean his hands on his knees.

“Fuck, mate.” Liam looked–there was no other word for it–_anguished_, and it tugged at Zayn’s heartstrings.

“Shit, are you ok?” Zayn asked, striding over to put a comforting hand on Liam’s meaty shoulder.

Liam looked into his eyes and he looked terrified. “Zayn, _I felt what he felt_.”

Zayn was puzzled, he hadn’t felt anything except maximum embarrassment for creeping around on a group of young lads, tiny little popstars, who were apparently very fond of one another.

“How d’you mean?”

Liam rubbed at the stubble on his cheeks. “Like, Mini-me, I could feel what he was feeling. He was _in love with you_.”

Zayn was gobsmacked; this was all horribly awkward. “What–why?”

“I don’t know, Zayn, I don’t understand any of this.”

Liam was angry now and Zayn retreated a little, wondering if this would be how Liam would react if he ever told him about his own feelings. “I could feel _everything_, I was so happy we were there together but I also wanted you so much…my heart jumped when you smiled at me, and when you put your arm around me…” Liam shivered a little. “When Lou kissed what’s-his-name–”

“Harry,” Zayn interjected.

Liam made a dismissive gesture with his hand, “When they kissed, I felt like I was dying inside, I was just that desperate for what they had.” Liam exhaled sharply as if he really was holding onto all of Baby-Liam’s feelings of love and hope and fear and hurt. Zayn was shocked at how much he was physically affected. Not only that, but also–

“Wait–isn’t this meant to be _my_ journey though?”

Liam scrunched his face into a confused frown. “I thought so, but, like, maybe it’s not? Maybe something happened when we touched before it ported us, and it like, got confused?”

“Is that possible?”

Liam shook his head in disbelief, “Possible that it got confused? I don’t know, but two people have never travelled together before, never _had_ to, never _could_, after all–” Liam cut himself off, looking stricken.

“What?” Zayn asked.

Liam shook his head again, “Nothing, don’t worry. If anything, I’m hoping it’ll make this whole bloody thing shorter, maybe the LG will realise it’s stuffed up and send us back.”

Zayn could tell Liam wasn’t convinced but he chose to believe him.

“Well then,” Zayn said, steeling himself, “sooner we get what we came for, see what we were sent for, the sooner we can just forget this whole thing.”

Liam nodded but he knew now it wouldn’t be that easy.

They wandered into what looked like a changing room where yet another version of Liam sat. This one was older than the previous one but still a few years younger than real-Liam. He wore athletic-wear and sat forlornly on a bench, head in his hands.

He was crying as he spoke on the phone. “I can’t do it, Mum.”

They couldn’t hear what the voice down the phone was saying but it didn’t appear to be helping.

“I’m never going to be any good. It’s so easy for everyone else and I just feel like this pathetic loser who’s just trying to win something he hasn’t earned.”

Sad-Liam wiped his eyes as he listened. Mindful that in the last dimension, Liam had been almost bowled over by his counterpart’s feelings, Zayn kept close a close watch. This time though, real-Liam seemed interested but unmoved.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Mum,” then after a little bit, “yep, I love you too…I know you wish you could be here… yes, its ok.”

Sad-Liam hung up, sniffling unceremoniously.

“Liam?” Zayn recognised a version of his own voice.

Liam hurriedly dried his eyes and put on a brave face. “How did you get in here, mate?” His eyes were puffy and red and he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Caused a diversion, sneaked past Security.” Sneaky-Zayn wiggled his eyebrows before noticing something was up. “Hey, are you ok?”

Sad-Liam threw him a watery smile but there was something about Sneaky-Zayn’s concern and he felt himself getting emotional all over again.

“I’m so embarrassed, sitting here with the opportunity of a lifetime and all I can do is cry and be afraid like a dumb little kid.” Sad-Liam wiped his eyes again.

Zayn sat beside him on the cold bench, nudging Liam lightly with his shoulder.

“It’s ok to want this, you know.”

Liam shook his head and lowered his eyes, “I feel like such a fraud. Everyone here is so amazing and even if I run well today, I won’t ever deserve it as much as some of them. I can’t take a place from someone who’s truly worked for it, Zayn.”

Sneaky-Zayn, Sweet-Zayn really, placed a tentative hand on Sad-Liam’s bare knee. “This is to qualify for the _Olympics_, man. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t earned it.”

Sad-Liam shook his head, croaking out, “No, no, like, it’s just dumb luck, Z. Some of these people have been doing this since they were five years old. I just have some natural talent and I trained a bit. I’m a joke.”

He was distraught and Sweet-Zayn realised he’d have to work a little harder to talk Sad-Liam down.

“Listen to me. It’s not luck. Everyone here is talented, everyone here has worked hard. You are here because you are one of them.” Sweet-Zayn poked Sad-Liam square in the chest. “Because you are as good, if not better than them. I don’t know anyone as motivated and as determined as you are, and don’t forget how much you’ve given up for this shot, Liam.”

Sad-Liam hung his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to believe him, he just _couldn’t_.

Sweet-Zayn continued, “Look at me.”

Sad-Liam raised his teary eyes just a fraction, and Sweet-Zayn held his chin softly there as they looked into one another’s eyes for just a moment.

“You’re the best person I know, Liam, and I so want this for you, even if it kills me how much I miss you when you’re away.”

Sad-Liam’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” He asked, voice just above a whisper. His tears had stopped now.

“I mean, when you’re off running a world‑record time all the way over in Toronto and I’m just watching you on the shit TV in my little crummy flat in bloody suburban _Auckland_, I’ll think how proud of you I was when you went out there now and qualified, even though you were scared. And when you win that gold medal and I spill my beer all over the floor in excitement, I’ll think _that’s_ the Liam that I love.”

Sad-Liam straightened in surprise, his skin breaking out in goose-bumps. “Do you mean that, like–”

Sweet-Zayn chuckled softly and shrugged, “I mean it like it sounds. I hope it doesn’t throw you off.”

“No, I–” Sad-Liam smiled slowly, heat rising to his cheeks despite the cold in the room. He pursed his lips wordlessly and reached down to place his hand over Sweet-Zayn’s where it sat on his knee.

Sweet-Zayn returned his other hand to Sad-Liam’s face, just the whisper of his fingertips down the side of his jaw. Sweet-Zayn leaned in just a fraction, his eyes never leaving Sad-Liam’s, “I believe in you.”

Sad-Liam didn’t look all that sad anymore, looking into Sweet-Zayn’s eyes, then to his lips, before closing the space between them. As soon as their lips touched, Sad-Liam felt all the weight self-doubt lift off his shoulders.

“Thank you,” Sad-Liam whispered when they pulled apart.

The LG let Liam and Zayn stick around for just long enough to see Sad-Liam run a record qualifying time.

**

Like the last time, Zayn landed on his feet and Liam appeared tidily beside him. They were in a posh house with huge windows and Liam could see out to the pool.

Zayn shuffled his feet awkwardly while Liam did a quick recce to make sure they were alone. Like Liam had said, he’d felt everything the Zayn in the previous dimension had felt and it wasn’t lost on him how lucky _that_ Zayn had been to have his Liam return his feelings.

“It wasn’t the same as last time,” Liam said as they explored their surroundings. There on the mantel was an unmistakable photograph of the two of them. They were older, clearly stable, maybe forty-something. It was a trip. “I didn’t feel it. Was that one for you?”

Zayn didn’t know what to say, scared he’d say something to let his true feelings show. “Yeah, I felt that one.”

Sneaky-Zayn had flooded him with emotions, not the intense longing he felt with his own Liam, but a deep, loving contentment that came from not being fearful. Sneaky-Zayn hadn’t been scared of Sad-Liam’s reaction, he’d just been overwhelmed by a need to comfort him, take care of him, speak as if his love was a matter-of-fact, in a world where Sneaky-Zayn simply couldn’t _not_ love Sad-Liam. Zayn wondered what kind of easy life Sneaky-Zayn had led to make him feel so confident, and to share that confidence with his Liam.

“Mate, the LG’s definitely busted, we’re in some sort of loop, look,” he gestured to the photos on the mantelpiece, in the bookcase, little pieces from decades of their shared life dotted about the room. “It’s just, all us. There’s no way that this is all relevant,” Liam blustered awkwardly and Zayn cringed.

_If only you knew,_ Zayn thought. Broken or not, it was a cruel and unusual type of torture being shown all the ways in which these other versions of themselves could find the happiness Zayn so desperately craved, and it was only compounded by Liam thinking it was all some sort of embarrassing, cosmic fuck-up. Zayn knew better.

“Babe?” Came Older-Liam’s voice from the hallway and despite being imperceptible, Liam and Zayn moved to crouch along the window. Older-Liam burst into the room carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses and Liam smiled warmly when he saw him. It had been a strange feeling seeing a living, breathing, younger version of himself but at least he’d known what he looked like when he was younger. This was altogether different, a reassuring view into the future, like meeting a kind, older relative who looked a bit like you. Older-Liam had a neatly trimmed beard but still sported Liam’s close-cropped hair. He looked fit too and Liam wondered if both he and Older-Zayn were younger than he’d first assumed. “Babe!” Older-Liam called again.

“Hold your horses, I’m coming.” Came Older-Zayn’s voice as he rounded the corner and entered the room.

Liam could feel Zayn stir still beside him, he was obviously having a similar experience to the one he’d just had, but then Older-Zayn was enough to take Liam’s own breath away. Older-Zayn was still shockingly handsome, face angular and hair flecked with just the smallest amount of grey, but his eyes were what struck Liam most; they were warm, without pretense, the flicker of bitterness _his_ Zayn carried with him all but gone.

Liam snuck a quick look to his side and Zayn’s body language told him all he needed to know; he looked serene, happy, calm. It wasn’t a side Liam saw too often and although he didn’t begrudge Zayn his hardships, it was lovely to see.

Zayn leaned in close to whisper at him, “We are a couple of damn good looking old dudes.” Liam smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze, he wasn’t sure but he had a suspicion they were both feeling this one.

“You said you wouldn’t make a fuss!” Older-Zayn scolded, smiling as Older-Liam came in for a kiss.

Zayn felt Liam inhale sharply next to him, reflected he was probably dead sick of having to see them making out repeatedly. Zayn pushed the disappointment from his mind; just because Liam couldn’t enjoy it, didn’t mean he couldn’t, after all there was something special about the scene. Their home was warm and beautiful, the room dim, the feeling of love and comfort flooding the space.

“I said I wouldn’t make a big song and dance, which is true, because I am actually only making a small speech.” Older-Liam smiled cheekily and Zayn was moved by the crinkles at his eyes; years and years of ups and downs, good and bad, had created those wrinkles and he loved every one of them. He wondered if Liam and him would still be friends in another fifteen-or-so years.

Older-Liam poured them a couple of modest glasses of champagne and he raised his own before he began to speak.

“Baby, when you said you wanted to do production design after college, I thought you were mad,” Older-Liam chuckled, “I admit, I envisioned us having to scrape by on my miserable teaching salary.”

“Hey!” Older-Zayn objected.

Older-Liam rolled his eyes affectionately, “I want to say I always knew you’d get nominated for an Academy Award but that would ignore all the hard work you’ve done to get here. I am so, so proud of you.”

“I’m not actually going to win, you know.” Older-Zayn scoffed but Older-Liam pulled him in close with an arm around his waist.

“Too bad, babe, because I’ve already cleared a spot for your Ruby.” Indeed, there on the mantelpiece was a gap, the perfect size for the gold statuette.

For a moment, Older-Zayn just stared at Older-Liam with his eyebrows raised. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Older-Liam paused and put his glass down. “I spend every day wondering the exact same thing.” He delicately grabbed Older-Zayn’s glass and put it down besides his own. He took Older-Zayn’s hands in his own.

“There’s something else that I wanted to say to you tonight,” he paused, “_ask _you, really.”

Older-Zayn’s forehead wrinkled but his smile remained. “Ask?” A look of recognition came over his face, “Oh, Liam.” His expression softened helplessly.

“Oh, fuck,” Real-Liam whispered at Zayn’s side. “He’s really going to do it.” It was such an intimate moment and Zayn could hardly breathe.

“I know we said we wouldn’t, didn’t need to do what straight people do to prove how much we love each other,” Older-Liam continued, his hands still gripping Older-Zayn’s, “but, I couldn’t think of a better way to let you know how much you mean to me, and how I love you a little more every single day. So, what I’m asking is,” Older-Liam bent down smoothly to rest on one knee, “Zayn Malik, will you marry me?”

**

Zayn was still in a loved-up daze by the time they arrived in the next dimension. Apparently, Liam didn’t feel the same way.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, pacing again. They were in the hallway of a swanky hotel but the corridor seemed totally empty; it felt like the middle of the night. It was a strange sensation, but Zayn could feel they’d been in this dimension before, in a different time.

“Li, mate,” Zayn began in an attempt to comfort him, before realising he really had nothing to offer that would make any of this any better. “It’s ok,” was the answer he came up with even though it was totally inadequate.

“How is it ok, Zayn?” Liam asked, words biting. He knew it wasn’t Zayn’s fault but it didn’t stop the thoughts racing around in his head. “It just keeps getting worse and worse.”

Zayn felt like he’d been punched in the chest. Of course, rationally, he knew Liam didn’t feel the same way he did but at least he’d felt like they were in this together. Zayn wondered bitterly how much his stupid childish fantasies had influenced the LG into showing them all these sweet, but utterly unrealistic, scenes. He knew it would never be like that for them and he couldn’t understand what there was to be learned by hammering it home again and again and–he rounded himself with a shock; that was it–the LG’s whole _fucking_ point was to show him that he should just get over it. All of a sudden, he felt more hopeless than he had the whole time since they’d landed in not-Liam’s flat and begun this whole, horrible journey.

“Sorry,” Zayn muttered sadly, sinking along the wall, down to the floor.

Liam spun around on his heel. “It’s not your fault.” But now, Zayn knew different.

“I just,” Liam came to sit by him on the carpet, “don’t know what’s real anymore.” He sighed painfully. “I don’t know how to trust my own feelings, don’t know how to feel about you anymore–”

Liam gripped his knee and Zayn felt like his heart was in his throat, but before he even felt the familiar clench in his stomach, they were inside a hotel room. He’d been right, by now porting was almost as easy as blinking.

He could feel Liam bristle beside him and as soon as Zayn’s eyes belatedly adjusted to the darkness, he understood why. There, in the bed, were the two of them.

“Oh, shit,” Zayn whispered into the dark, caught between mortified and turned on. It was surreal, he thought, like watching the sex tape they’d never made. There was nothing graphic, the other versions of themselves were both under the covers and the room was pitch black, but it was clear what was going on. Even if he couldn’t see it clearly, Zayn recognised his own unmistakable moans, the ones he made when he was feeling overwhelming pleasure mixed with the tiniest twinge of pain; Liam was fucking him on his back, deep and slow with confidence and intensity, like they’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe these two had, Zayn thought with envy.

Beside him, Zayn noticed Liam lower his eyes but, despite how much he wanted to give Liam that dignity, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Bed-Liam kissed Bed-Zayn with a ferocity Zayn didn’t recognise; _his_ Liam was motivated, driven, but always gentle. Bed-Zayn appeared to need it though, gripping him fiercely around the shoulders as Bed-Liam pounded into him. Bed-Liam lowered his head to kiss at the tattoos on Bed-Zayn’s neck and chest, moaning all the while.

“Oh, fuck,” Bed-Liam grunted, and even in the dark, Zayn could see the sweat shining on his forehead. “Baby, I’m close.”

Bed-Zayn leant his head to the side, gasping for air. Zayn could feel how he felt; Bed-Zayn was close too.

“Just fuck me, Liam,” Bed-Zayn begged through gritted teeth.

Bed-Liam had enviable stamina but he didn’t last much longer. He came with soft moans, head pressed to Zayn’s shoulder, murmuring sweet things into his ear: _you’re so good, baby; fuck I love you, baby; there’s no one like you, baby_.

Bed-Zayn said nothing, the look on his face pained as Liam pulled out, yanking off the spent condom before replacing his dick with his thick fingers.

Bed-Zayn gasped and fisted his dick as Liam worked his fingers in and out, pressing hot kisses to his chest and stomach.

“Come for me, baby,” Bed-Liam panted, lifting his head to look up Bed-Zayn’s body, “You’re so fucking beautiful, Z.”

Bed-Zayn came with a muffled grunt, come spurting over his chest and to Zayn’s astonishment, Bed-Liam ducked down to lap it up hungrily.

“Liam,” Bed-Zayn said reproachfully, but Bed-Liam didn’t stop. When Bed-Zayn’s chest was clean, Bed-Liam didn’t let up, attaching his mouth to every part of him he could reach. Bed-Zayn rolled over uncomfortably.

“Please, Zayn,” Bed-Liam begged, “please, let me.”

Bed-Zayn sat up and switched on the bedside light. He raked a hand through his hair; it was longer than Zayn wore his, he noticed, and it looked good on him. Bed-Zayn sighed, pulled the covers back over his nakedness and put his hands in his lap.

“Li, we talked about this. We said one more time, just to say goodbye.”

Bed-Liam sat forlorn, naked and vulnerable, at the end of the bed, “_Please_,” he whispered, barely audible.

Bed-Zayn shook his head, “I can’t, babe. The band will go on just fine without me. We’ll still see each other, I just need some time.”

Beside him, Zayn felt Liam crumble at Bed-Zayn’s words; for the second consecutive time, they were both feeling what their equivalent felt and it was taking Liam apart, piece by piece. Zayn took a moment to analyse his own feelings; hot, undeniably, but also sad, regretful. Raw.

If Zayn needed confirmation of how Liam was feeling, Bed-Liam made his torment clear, fat tears rolling down his flushed cheeks.

“I don’t care about the fucking _band_, I only care about you. I love _you_ and I know you love me too.” Bed-Liam begged and Zayn felt like he wanted to cry too. “_Stay_, I’m begging you. If not permanently, then just until the morning.”

Bed-Zayn shook his head sadly, “I can’t.” Still naked, he rose out of bed, placed a kiss on Bed-Liam’s head where he still sat crying, grabbed his clothes and padded to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him with finality.

Liam let out a wracked sob where they sat in the dark and Zayn couldn’t help but try and comfort him. Liam flinched at the touch before sinking into Zayn at his side; “Oh, god,” he cried, “oh, god.”

**

They ported back to Liam’s flat and as soon as he realised it, Zayn leapt into Liam’s arms with joy.

“Babe, we’re back!” Zayn buried his face in Liam’s neck, not caring what it implied; everything was weird, so fucked up, but they were home.

“I honestly thought we’d be stuck forever! With the LG confused–”

Liam peeled Zayn’s arms from around his neck. His voice was low, hurt. “It wasn’t confused, Z.”

Zayn’s face fell, “What d’you mean? Sure it was, you said it couldn’t work for two people–

“I know what I said,” Liam snapped at him. “But I lied, ok?”

Zayn frowned, “I don’t understand…”

“Are you thick?” Liam shouted; Zayn had never, ever seen him like this before. “You can’t work out what it means when we visit _multiple other dimensions,_” he said the words like the whole concept was madness, despite the fact they’d just travelled through some, “and we’re in love with each other in every single one of them?”

Zayn still felt the shadow of the previous visit’s emotion hanging heavy in his heart and it threatened to take over. “I’m sorry, Li, I can’t explain it–” It was a lie, Zayn knew, but Liam was obviously so horrified by their experience that he could never tell him that, at least from his side, it was true in their dimension as well. He just hoped to fool his way out of it unscathed.

Liam strode over to grip his arms and Zayn heard the same desperation in his voice that he’d heard in Bed-Liam’s. Liam stopped just before he barrelled into him, their faces inches apart.

Zayn’s brow furrowed, “Wait, you knew? You knew that it was all real? Why didn’t you tell me?” Nothing made sense anymore–if the LG had been working, actually working on both of them, then its purpose wasn’t to get Zayn to get over Liam. But then, Zayn thought, what was its ultimate purpose? Unless–no. _Could it be–?_

Liam groaned and pressed his forehead to Zayn’s. “I couldn’t,” Liam choked out. His hands gripped Zayn so hard they threatened to hurt.

“Why?” Zayn whispered; their faces were so close he could feel Liam’s breath on his cheek. “You could’ve–I would’ve–”

Liam removed his hand from Zayn’s arm and moved it to stroke his cheek. Zayn’s breath caught in his throat. “Li, wait–”

Liam crowded Zayn so their bodies were pushed in close. Liam exhaled a shaky breath, “Z, I need you, I–”

For more than ten years, Zayn had prayed Liam would turn around one day and say those words. But not like this. He pushed him away.

“Li, this isn’t you. You’re just feeling how he felt, you’re still caught up in it, you–”

Liam shook his head, eyes insistent. He paced, as Zayn had seen him do so many times recently. Liam’s eyes were red from where he’d collapsed into Zayn’s arms in the corner of the hotel room. “You still don’t understand how it works, Z. I don’t feel how _he_ felt, we feel the _same_, we _are_ the same. Every single fucking thing we saw in there, I’ve already felt it. All of it. And I know you have too.”

Zayn inhaled sharply, realisation dawning over him.

“Li,” Zayn cautioned, “we can just–we don’t have to rush into–“

“No,” Liam shook his head with the same fierceness Bed-Liam had shown, “It feels like an eternity, and I’m so fucking sick of waiting.”

Zayn stood still and looked into Liam’s eyes desperately. “I’m scared.”

Liam pulled him into his arms, brushing a tentative hand down Zayn’s side. “You don’t have to be,” he took a breath, “I love you too. So many times, so many ways, I wanted to tell you.”

“Liam,” Zayn whispered, eyes searching, voice filled with desire.

Liam crushed their mouths together and Zayn felt a surge of heat from his fingertips to his toes. Liam felt better than he’d ever even dared to contemplate, warm, solid, all those other Liams just paled in comparison to _his_ Liam. Liam kissed him like he was a precious thing, lips soft, roaming hands tender and Zayn heard him inhale sharply as he stripped Zayn’s shirt from him. Zayn felt self-conscious for a second before realising, across infinite other dimensions, at every stage and every age, they’d done this, thousands, if not _millions_, of times before.

Bed-Liam had gotten him hot, no question, after all, he’d felt everything that Bed-Zayn had felt. But getting to see, to touch, _his_ Liam was more of a cosmic shift than Zayn had experienced in any of their travels through the dimensions. Later, when Liam carried him to his bedroom and fucked him into the mattress, Zayn felt like he was falling through time, against all the laws of gravity and motion. The heat between their bodies was exquisitely unique, heavy and tangible as they gripped one another, but their love _finally_ felt effortless; light and infinite. 

**

“So many times, I thought about telling you.” Liam breathed, voice bittersweet. He drew large circles on Zayn’s bare back with his hand and Zayn felt electricity zing up his spine.

Zayn rolled onto his side to face him. “I get it. I couldn’t either, but you’re braver than me.”

Liam sighed and shrugged, “I just put it off and put it off and then it had been too long. With the 1st Div. job, I had to be so secretive so I couldn’t tell you then either. I knew if we got together, I never could have lied to you.”

Zayn smiled at him softly and stroked his arm. “I missed you so much when you went away, you have no idea.”

Liam returned a shy smile, “Actually, I think you already told me,” and Zayn’s mind flashed back to the scene in the change room, when Sweet-Zayn couldn’t begrudge Sad-Liam his dreams despite how hard it was to be without him.

“I thought about quitting so many times. Pretty much every day, I thought about giving it all away and coming back to you. But I’d already been such a coward, I knew if I did come home, I still wouldn’t tell you how I feel.” Liam rolled onto his back, an arm behind his head.

Zayn didn’t speak, how could he, after all he’d felt the same thing, so many versions of themselves had felt all these same things. There was a thread of understanding that now tethered them together.

Liam continued, “I think that’s partly why I joined the army, y’know, pretend I was this big macho guy who wasn’t totally hiding his head in the sand. Then when I joined 1st Div. it was all about the mission, that sense of duty, it was all the extra excuse I needed. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Zayn snorted, “Mate, don’t be. I’m just sorry it took us being kidnapped by alien technology to come to terms with out feelings for each other. What a bunch of proper idiots.” He smiled at Liam warmly.

On the bedside, Liam’s phone came to life. Distractedly, he reached over.

“Z–”

“Hm?” Zayn replied, smiling sleepily.

“It’s February.” They’d be gone three months.

Mere seconds after Liam’s phone had beaconed, he received a call from work. He pressed a kiss to Zayn’s forehead before slipping out of bed to answer it. Five minutes later, he returned with a cup of tea for each of them.

“That’s work,” he clutched an encrypted satellite phone. “They want me to come in. Both of us, actually. They’re sending a car, come on.”

Liam raked his fingers down Zayn’s sides, hands splayed from his belly to his chest as the water cascaded over them like a shower of stars. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, babe,” he whispered and Zayn felt himself melt backward into his arms.

When they got out, Liam dried him, towelling him softly. “I liked your hair long,” he whispered, a warm hand around Zayn’s neck, and Zayn smiled, raising an eyebrow, “Oh did you now?”

The car that retrieved him was cool and black, despite its sleekness, utterly unremarkable as it whisked them through London. Zayn couldn’t be sure but traffic seemed to part as they passed through.

Zayn inhaled nervously as they approached Albert Embankment in Vauxhall Cross.

“You’re fucking James Bond, you twat,” throwing Liam a sly smile in the backseat. Liam smiled back and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Don’t be nervous,” Liam said, despite the fact his own heart was pounding.

They were ushered all the way up to the top floor where the Chief greeted them personally.

“Lieutenant Payne, thank you for coming. The Major-General is also here.”

Liam ushered Zayn in, who felt most out of place. “The Major-General is the head of The Regiment. He’s a pretty big deal.” Zayn gulped, he thought the whole thing was a pretty big deal.

The Major-General was a stern, athletic man in his fifties and he crushed Zayn’s fingers in his hand when he shook it. Liam, however, saluted, steadfast and unflappable in his protocol, polite and deferential. Liam was wearing his uniform, including his beret, and Zayn felt like a naughty child in his sweatshirt and jeans. However, Zayn couldn’t believe how proud he felt, seeing Liam in his element like this.

“Have a seat, gentlemen,” C said affably; he was a charismatic man, as Zayn expected a spy-chief to be. “You will, naturally, receive a complete debrief at a later date. My esteemed colleague the Major-General has told me that will likely occur at the base at Ashwell.”

The Major-General nodded once, firmly.

“The purpose of your visit today is purely to thank you for your service, _both_ of you,” Zayn made to protest but Liam calmed him with a gentle tap on his knee, “and to state how pleased I am that you both made a safe return.”

C continued, “Now, Lieutenant Payne, we trust that you will brief Mr Malik here on the requirement for the utmost security, and after you’ve rested, we will discuss arrangements for cover for your disappearance these past few months accordingly. Besides your family and friends, we took the liberty of making the relevant arrangements while you were gone so your absence didn’t raise too much alarm. Now, congratulations,” he clasped his hands together, “and a job well done.”

The Major-General spoke, ignoring Zayn, although Zayn thought he saw the barest whisper of a smile. “Lieutenant, your squadron will expect you back at Ashwell on Monday. You’ve done your country proud, son.”

Zayn could barely hold in his excitement as they made their way back down the massive building, into the car, and back through London. When Liam unlocked the door to his flat, Zayn let out an enormous breath.

“Oh my god, it’s like he thought we’d saved the world or something.”

Liam smiled wryly, “I know we weren’t like, heroic or anything, but it’s still a pretty big deal, like we’ve contributed to _history_, mate.” Liam was on a high following the generous words from his commanding officers.

Zayn snorted, working promptly on the tricky buttons at Liam’s starched collar before his hands flitted impatiently down to his gold belt buckle. “You just wait until they hear that the aliens wasted all that bloody effort helping us get our shit together.” Zayn blanched, “Oh my god, we’re going to have to tell a two-star General that we were in a boy band _and_ that we watched ourselves shagging. They’re going to think we’re absolutely taking the piss!”

Liam could only laugh, dark eyes warm before he reached to pull Zayn in towards him.

“It’s not _aliens_, it’s benevolent A.I,” Liam smirked, as if it was obvious, “but tough shit, I guess.” He kissed Zayn long and deep and dragged him back to the sofa where, three months ago, the whole unbelievable story had started.

After they’d been kissing for a few minutes, Zayn yanked his face away from Liam’s. “Li? Does this mean we’ve never _not_ been together?”

Liam sighed, patient and reflective even as he eyed Zayn’s lips hungrily. “In the _abstract_, yes, we are intemporal, incorporeal, simultaneously always existing and not existing, just flickers of reality, memory, possibility, across endless dimensions. So technically, yes, we are always together but at the same time, we’re always apart. I think that’s why the LG showed us bad stuff. For like, perspective, you know?”

Zayn leant his head back on the pillow and looked to the ceiling, “Wow.”

Liam tugged Zayn toward him, smiling, eyes dark. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather fuck you in real life, not in the abstract.” And with that, he dived back in.

**

“Mate, you’re lucky I’m still interested, after you left me hanging!” Niall smarted into his pint and Liam was relieved; Niall had quite obviously not found another trainer in the intervening months.

With the agreement of Liam’s senior leadership, they’d told their friends and family that they’d gone on an impromptu extended holiday. Despite the implausibility of the story, their nearest and dearest believed it because Liam and Zayn said they’d left to go figure out their relationship, and it was clear they now had.

Zayn snuggled in close to Liam in the booth at the pub and Liam draped an arm over his shoulders, smacking a quick peck on his cheek.

Liam rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I bet you were just gagging to get into the gym, mate.”

Niall snorted, “You’re right, I think I might give it a miss after all, me PT’s too much of a flake. But happy to drink beers with you lads instead.” Niall raised his glass genially.

A tall, curly-haired fellow waltzed in, beaming when he saw Zayn. Liam’s cheeks flushed, he recognised that smile, not that he could let it on.

Zayn stood to greet the man, wrapping his arms around, slapping him on the back. “H, it’s so good to see you. This,” he gestured down, “is Liam.”

Liam stood and shook Harry’s hand warmly. He thought that even if he and Zayn didn’t have secret knowledge of how good mates they’d all been, when Harry sat chatting cheerfully to Niall, he felt it all just click.

Harry laughed charmingly, “So, Z, I don’t know if anyone’s told you yet, but I have good news.” His voice was like melted chocolate, warm and oozy, and Liam liked him already. Zayn raised his eyebrows quizzically and Harry burst out laughing. “Mate, you’re so fucking fired.”

Zayn looked to Liam confidentially, “I think I might need a career change.” Liam wiggled his eyebrows knowingly.

Finally, Louis barrelled in like a tiny tornado.

Liam pulled him into a huge hug and whispered confidentially in his ear, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, mate.” Louis grunted dismissively. “If it makes up for it at all, I finally told Zayn how I felt.”

He and Louis had had the briefest of flings at Sandhurst but it had never felt right for either of them; they were better as friends.

Louis pulled out of his arms and smiled, “Everything’s all right then, innit?”

Liam pulled him to one side, voice low. “I have a feeling you might forgive me when you see who we have for you to meet.”

Zayn stood to slap Louis’ hand, they’d met more than once, and Zayn could feel Louis radiating happiness for the both of them. “So, Lou,” Zayn piped up, “this is my mate, Harry.”

And Zayn thought it was a done deal as soon as they took one look at each other.

“Alright, mate?” Louis extended his hand and Liam swore he’d never seen him more nervous. Harry relaxed into the touch, green eyes shining. “Hi, Louis.”

Niall took one look at the four of them and cackled, “Yeah, that’s it lads, you go make goo-goo eyes at each other, I’ll just sit here and entertain meself.” Louis licked his lips nervously and Harry smiled at Niall affectionately. Zayn met Liam’s eyes and they could only laugh.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt for this fic was:
> 
> Zayn finds out his best friend Liam has actually been lying to him and works for the CIA in a secret department when they both wake up in a parallel universe. As they’re trying to find their way back, they end up travelling through multiple universes. Take this wherever you want!
> 
> So, I hope I did it justice. This story was fun to play around because the canon universe was the alternate universe, all within an AU. Meta-tropes abound!
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
__
> 
> A final word, artwork is mine but manip is not. I couldn't find who to credit it to, so if it is yours or you know whose it is, please let me know and I will make a note :)


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